Together We've Fallen and Together We Shall Stand
by Clorinda
Summary: Ryu and Megumi, the fallen petals of a withered rose.
1. Chapter 1

**Together We Have Fallen and Together We Shall Stand**

**By** Clorinda

**Rated**: PG

**Category**: Romance

**Summary**: Ryu and Megumi, the fallen petals of a withered rose.

**Author's Note**: If anyone is complaining about the large chunks of misshapen angst, I have to admit I was reading "_The Magus_" at the time, and John Fowles kind of influenced my writing— although in a grotesque parody of his seamless angst and romance.

* * *

**Chapter One **

It had been like Saturday Night Fever.

Megumi's last night had been her best. She had thought that maybe she'd pack her bags in the night, and slip out of the flat to the airport while her housemate slept. Instead, there'd been a party.

And Ryu had been her host.

He'd taken her dancing to a local club, and they had a few pints of alcohol, that was it, but it was all in the heat of things. She hadn't even known Ryu could swing like that; she always thought he played the violin and the piano, and walked the classical romantic path.

Laughing and giggling, the two of them had staggered out, and tipsy with fun, they ran laughing down the sidewalk like little kids. They never stopped until they collapsed against the door of their building, and he kissed her as they rode up the elevator. Megumi felt positively drunk with love as she tottered into their flat.

The packed suitcases sitting on the living room was an ugly reminder. She kicked one aside, and dragged Ryu by the hand into the kitchen.

She stuffed some noodles into the microwave, and they ate it barefoot on the balcony. He cracked a joke too many, and she giggled hysterically, sloshing gravy down the front of her new pinstriped shirt.

It went in the laundry basket, although she'd probably never wear it again. Or even see it.

Ryu looked at her seriously with his hooded grey eyes. The scanty dinner was finished, and lying littered in a discarded heap. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, one knee touching the balcony railing.

"What is it?" she said shyly.

He never took his eyes off her, the muscles around his jaw tensed to speak. His face was pale in the moonlight, and he said something she couldn't hear. "Never mind," he added, and leaning over, he kissed her on the mouth.

The first tears glistened in her eyes, but she reached up and wiped it away. "I don't want to go," she whispered. "Say that you want me to stay, and I will ...I swear I will. Just say you want me to."

He hadn't taken his hands away; he still cupped her face with both hands. His eyes searched her face.

"I want you, Meg," he said softly, his voice husky. "I don't want you to leave me, but you have to. You're going to."

He didn't kiss her again. He climbed to his feet brusquely, and walked away.

She stood up after him, and leaned over the railing, just watching the street below them. This was a beautiful place to stay in, and the whole city was a gigantic scarab with a bejewelled back.

Ryu was going to close it up tomorrow. She was sure he would. She would be gone, and so would he, and this flat would fall silent, waiting for another happy couple to move in. Take Ryu and Megumi's places.

Shoulder their tattered mantle.

* * *

Horticulture had stolen away from Ryu the sole love of his embittered existence. Perhaps he had been right to believe he was dying as a bachelor, for no one had ever loved one of the Amakusa line.

He moved back into his previous flat, the one from where he could neither see Megumi's house or his old one. Every night, when lay on his back in bed, he would look at his scarred fingers, and light from the uncurtained window would shine upon the ring he had never been able to take off, although he hid it each time he saw his friends.

It was the broken engagement.

The happiest eight months of his life.

Meg had boarded that flight to a new life and the Caribbean, and she never looked back, although she knew that someone was waiting for her with open arms.

"What you need is a life," stated Kazuma so simply that he might have suggesting a new brand of soap.

"And you think I'll just get one at the retail store?" returned Ryu sarcastically. He beckoned one of the café waitresses over to their table. "A plate of fries please."

"Come _on_, you guys," protested Kyu. "You two've been arguing all evening. We came here to have _fun_."

"Alright," said Kazuma, equally angry now. "How's work going with you, Kinta?"

"Oh, fine. I got a new secretary, and I've been meaning to ask her out to lunch for ages." He had been given his retired father's badge: Chief Commissioner of Tokyo Police Department Kintaro Toyama.

Kazuma rolled his eyes. He was taller and lankier now, and he wore contact lenses. He was still carrying his backpack: they had picked him up straight from his college.

"Some people just never change," he groaned, dropping his head on the table. His eyes swivelled towards the person opposite him, but Ryu avoided that bespectacled gaze.

He didn't say much that night as he walked home with Kyu. He didn't ride his motorbike a lot these days, it reminded him too much of when Meg sat behind him, her arms locked around his middle.

Some days he felt like riding it into a hellish furnace.

Ryu appreciated how his friend tried to keep apace with conversation, but he wanted to brood when Kyu was going on about the lottery, the weather, and curiously enough, the quality of newsprint these days.

"You're being very quiet today," he remarked, when lottery tickets, weather forecasts and newspapers produced no response. "Are you feeling alright?"

Imperceptibly, Ryu nodded.

"Are you thinking about Meg?"

"No, I'm moving on," he lied.

"You don't have to keep it all inside. Whenever you want, I'm there if you feel like talking."

"Thanks, Kyu." He meant it, because he knew Kyu did too. "Really."

Ryu climbed the stairs that night with a lighter heart. He walked over to his dresser, and picked up the photograph in its frame. There was Megumi in a plain white dress, in front of a sunflower garden with her hair open under a broad flat sunflower hat.

It sat with its face to the wall. He looked at it for a lasting minute, and then he put it back the way it was. He changed clothes, and stayed awake on his side all night in bed.

* * *

An infuriated Kazuma set him up on date soon after. Not exactly a mutually blind one, but this girl was eager to meet him soon after she found Ryu had spent a great deal of his life in "the NYC" as Kazuma had phrased it.

The girl was a bouncy blond person, much younger than he was, and still in high school. She had a shiny blond ponytail that bobbed up and down a lot, too. She said her name was Katherine, and Ryu lost interest soon with her affected Americanisms. He found her vacuous, and it might just have showed just this once.

He had taken her out to dinner at a Japanese restaurant, and she pouted when she noticed the lack of sushi— she apparently thought that was all the Japanese knew how to put in an exotic cuisine.

Ryu was glad to pay their bill, while she ate her three scoops of butterscotch. She wanted to split the cost, show herself off as a feminist and all, but he responded by ordering her more ice cream.

When they were standing outside her Ford sedan, and he was helping her into her coat, she turned her blue eyes into him, and there was a distinctly mournful look in that gaze that made him wish he'd been nicer.

But it was too late.

"It was a great evening, Katherine," he said. "I had a nice time."

"Ryu," she said. Just that and nothing more. There was something so helpless and frustrated inside her voice, as if she were saying, _Why _don't_ you ever remember?_

"Ryu, my name is Kate. And I haven't forgotten."

The words clicked so audibly inside his head. Kate, Katherine, New York, blond hair in pigtails, ice cream...

"Kate," and he wanted to take everything back and start a fresh story. But it was already too late, because she was already inside the car and she had already driven away.

And he just stood there, feeling so guilty.

* * *

Five months later, there was a fresh mail waiting in his account. From **bubble gum (at) gmail (dot)com**.

"Like to meet you sometime soon. Please call; you know where I live."

That was it, but then again, Ryu thought, what more could have been said?

He reached for the cordless, and swiftly punched in her number. It was a while before anyone picked up the phone. There was a crackle of static, and then a female voice,

"Hello? Can I help you?"

The voice was older and different. It was strange hearing it. Ryu pressed the ON/OFF button once more.

* * *

There was a woman sitting on the front steps with her sleeves rolled up. The house was surrounded by a large fence, and there were flowers blooming everywhere. It was rather picturesque, and different from the flat with the repaired door the Minamis had lived in before the eldest Minami girl married and moved out with lodging for her sister.

"Hi," she greeted, standing up and sticking up her hand. "Are you Ryu? You must be. I'm sorry, I've just never met you before."

"Yes, I am. Nice to meet you." He shook her hand. "You must be Megumi's sister. Is she home?"

"Yeah, she's been expecting you. It's nice of you to come. You'll find Meg in the greenhouse— at the back. Just turn the corner."

The greenhouse was small as greenhouses usually go, but inside there was a forest of fruits and flowers. Megumi was watering the roses, thick bee-keeper gloves around her hands, and her hair in a net.

Ryu wondered if it were still possible to slip out unnoticed. He felt horribly uncomfortable and shy. He took a silent step back, and Megumi turned around, and saw him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: I kind of agree with **MiaHime**, and I've decided to continue. I'm terribly sorry for the wait for everyone who's reading, but here's the next chapter.

Many, _many_ thanks to **Wolf-of-the-Blue-Fire**, **Alishtaar**, and **Ridley-Silverlake **for reviewing. I don't write for an ego-boost, but your compliments actually made me get off my butt and start adding to this story.

And there's a zillion thanks to **Crystal Haze** who provided the basic foundation for this prolongation. :waves: Hope you like Raoul when he turns up (and yes, I stole that from Gaston Leroux's novel, before you ask.)

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Megumi saw him. She froze. "Oh," she whispered.

Ryu halted, blanching. "Meg."

Her eyes found his grey ones, and they met with such electricity that, for a moment, she couldn't blink, couldn't look away.

He wasn't supposed to be here. All around him, almost every inch of space in the entirety of the greenhouse was filled with flowers. Potted sunflowers, ivy vines, rose beds, foxgloves growing out of hanging baskets ... This was her sanctuary. This was her world and her love. Ryu definitely did not belong there.

Hastily, he began to back out.

* * *

Looking back for weeks on end, Meg would always wonder why she hadn't kept her head in the right place and stayed in Haiti, wearing those colourful, ankle-length flower-print skirts, and arranging baskets of fruit in a sunlit studio.

She never had to come back. Never had to impale herself upon her own heart.

Then there was that phone call with Kyu days after Ryu ran out on her, his face pale, her eyes wide.

He'd come. He'd never stayed.

It had been Kyu's idea entirely. And she'd listened to him, so the blame wouldn't leave her alone, trapping her in a vortex of regret of which she was never guilty.

"Call him to dinner," had been Kyu's advice, his voice issuing over the cordless broken with static.

Meg had hesitated. She'd felt like a teenager again, never knowing what she'd say if Ryu should emerge from the white-paper envelope of her memories, sit beside, hold her hand, his skin warm to show that he was alive.

But he'd probably moved on. What then?

"Pop something in the VCR and watch a comedy flick together," said Kyu simply, "so that you'll have something to talk about afterwards."

She'd felt like the night had lifted.

"It kind of worked when Yuki Sakurako asked me out at DDS."

Meg felt that old, long-doused flame burn her again, but she was drowned too deep in intoxicating keenness. Suddenly, she couldn't wait anymore to see the same man she'd broken up with so awkwardly one year ago.

* * *

Love changes. And it changes people with it.

She'd thought Ryu could always be cool, aloof and easy, and when her trolley crashed into his with the jangle of steel at the downtown supermarket, knocking him back, she couldn't help but see how wrong she'd been.

Ryu looked like he was terrified. He was awkward, clumsy in his grip as he formally shook her hand, his voice not as relaxed as it'd been to her.

He acted like she was a stranger, and it hurt.

"Would you like to come over on Saturday? We can watch a movie and have a dinner."

Her skin had felt awful and clammy; she was uneasier than if she'd been locked in a closed room with a killer who knew she knew.

"Alright..."

She opened her eyes. He was smiling, but he looked shaky and unsure. She beamed at him, tried to show him things might or might not get better, but they sure as hell wouldn't get worse.

"Megumi ... thank you."

He looked at her, seeing her once more without the veil she draped around herself ... and he felt himself rising, floating out of the insistent gravity of unending blackness.

Maybe it was all over between them, but not even the wind can blow away _all_ of the ashes.

He never should have tried to run. He knew that now.

* * *

Saturday attacked her like a bundle of live wires, and by the end of it, Meg was as close to tears as the fish are to the sea, before she forcibly reminded herself that she'd wept her heart out on the plane to Haiti, and the memory of that pain was one she could live without.

But what do you do, when you wake up in the morning, trying to put things behind you and trying to be happy, but then you find out that God doesn't like you?

It was the phone call: a blind, wild punch in the dark that connected. Hard.

She'd wanted to call Ryu, tried so many times before, never found the courage to do it.

Why? She didn't _know_ why. He was coming over tonight anyway, why phone him? She wished she could explain it to the wrenching ache in her heart.

She'd been talking to Kyu again, desperate for advice, desperate to hear his voice. To drown in his faith in people, in his faith in the world ... in his faith in the manners of a life that once was, forgotten by the liver, remembered by him.

Saving grace, she thought, swallowing what was welling in her throat. This is pathetic, she wanted to scream at herself. _Look_ at you, Minami: frightened of a man you _want_ to meet.

Finally, she'd stitched herself together again, snapped on a smile, and hunted through her dresser for Ryu's phone number. Holding it in one hand, and reaching for the receiver in another, her fingers prepared to dial. Just punch those buttons and you'll hear his voice.

Suddenly, the phone rang loudly beneath her palm. She snatched her hand away, as if electrocuted, and then quickly picked it up. "Hello?" she said, wiping at her eyes. "Shinahara residence," since it was her brother-in-law's name.

"Meg?" a voice enquired tentatively. "Am I calling at a bad time?"

A faint blush spread across her cheeks. "Oh, it's you..."

When she finally hung up, placing the receiver gingerly on the hook, her sister, the new Mrs. Shinahara was standing outside the door, looking at her with a mixed expression of forced nonchalance and amusement.

"Who called? Ra—"

"_Don't_ you dare say a word," and Meg had to fight to keep from bursting into giddy laughter. "Especially when Ryu's coming to dinner."

"Fine, fine," Her sister threw her hands up in surrender. "Utter, and complete, silence." She paused. "What did he want?"

"Just a ... scrap of conversation."

"Oh, ho. Where was he calling from?"

"Local PCO booth."

"He's in town?"

"So?"

Mrs. Shinahara shrugged. "Nothing. I just never thought that he'd follow you all the way, that's all."

"That's not true!" But it was futile protestation: her sister had already left.

* * *

Ryu stood on the front steps of the Shinahara house, one hand in the pockets of his navy blue trousers. He thought the sweater was a little too dark, but looking through his closet, he'd realized there wasn't much else that could match the occasion, and the tanned-leather biker's jacket he used to wear with Megumi, hardly seemed appropriate for the evening.

He was afraid really, of how she'd take to the sight of it.

The sound of the doorbell echoed in his ears, the silence of the falling evening heavy outside. The hand behind his back fingered the petals of what he was holding, reminding him with the faintest touch of a time long past, unrecovered, when there'd been a small flat, big enough for only two, littered with flowers and dappled with sunshine.

Light spilled on the doorstep as someone pulled open the door. It was Meg, standing there with a shy smile. "Ryu," she said, her voice soft and anxious. "I'm so glad you came." She opened the door wider for him, like she'd done so many times before, like she'd do over and over again if she had the chance or choice anymore.

Wordlessly, he held out his hand, a white rose captured between his slim fingers.

"Thank you," she said, taking it from him. Its fragrance was strong and powerful, wafting up and entwining itself around her. "Thanks very much, Ryu."

He nodded, with a small, pressed-lips smile. "I remember you said you liked these, so I stopped by the florist's earlier this evening. Happy birthday."

She smiled, and hugged him, and for a lingering moment she felt his hands on her waist, holding her to him. Then, they broke apart, and he added, "Belated. It was last week, if I remember it correct."

"Yeah, it was. Won't you come inside?"

Her sister was preparing to leave; she was meeting her husband at the airport, and they were eating out, too. (Two birds with one stone: kids get privacy, she gets a romantic dinner. Things work out pretty well for the wicked actually, even if they don't get mourned.)

Meg introduced her to Ryu, and she warmly shook his hand. The two of them acted like they'd never met before, and Meg's sister rattled off a few perfunctory things in her general direction, winked conspiratorially at Ryu, and jauntily went down the front path to where her car was parked outside the gates, driving off as she did.

Effectively leaving the two of them alone.

"Err," was what Meg could say. "Why don't we just take the couch?"

There was the cassette in its jacket lying on the glass table, and Ryu leaned over and picked it up, casting a glance at the flowers she'd obviously arranged at the center of the table, before tearing his eyes away.

"_Death Becomes Her_?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "I didn't know you liked Goldie Hawn."

She looked at him pointedly. "Oh, and here I was, thinking you were going to grimace and say, _Megumi Minami_, why _are you watching haplessly outdated movies_? ... Someone recommended it to me when I was in Haiti, and I thought I'd watch it with you ... I hope you haven't seen it already."

"Never found it in any video library yet, actually," he lied with a smile.

"So, shall we try it?"

"No popcorn?" he teased.

"There's butter, no corn, unless, you wa—"

Somebody rang the doorbell.

"Excuse me for a sec," she said, getting up. Ryu watched her leave, absently gazing out the dark window. A cat was balanced on the brick wall behind the house, matted bright fur, _glowing_ amber eyes.

He could hear Meg open the door, her first cry of surprise.

The cat leapt nimbly off the wall; a long, strangled yowl cutting the night.

"I just hadn't expected you to drop by tonight." Her voice sounded closer to the drawing room, and Ryu found himself sitting straighter, as another voice sounded.

"Bad time?"

A laughing, male voice. "Oh, happy birthday."

Her laugh. "Wow, orchids. They're really pretty."

The faceless stranger. "I didn't know what kind of flowers you liked, so I got you the brightest ones I could find ... Oh, and this is for you too,"

"A birthday cake? You shouldn't have! This is so sweet."

"Ah, it's not much."

"Come on inside, there's someone I want you to meet."

Meg emerged into the drawing room, holding a bouquet of colourful orchids in the crook of her arm, and carrying a big, boxed cake. As she set them down on the table, another man walked into the room.

Ryu glanced at him, only because he had to, and it was obvious the guy was a foreigner, dressed in an open-necked shirt and white jeans, which suited the casual atmosphere all the more than one thought of a sweater and trousers. There was a sun-bleached appearance to his tousled hair too.

Meg beamed at them, her insides meshing. _If only you'd told me you wanted to come over when you called this morning_, she thought. "Ryu Amakusa, this is a friend of mine, Raoul Chouteau. I met him in Haiti, and I've known Ryu for ages."

Raoul, French. He stepped forward to shake the other man's hand, and Ryu stood in acknowledgement. "So, you're the detective Meg's talked so much about,"

"Not so much a detective anymore," said Ryu off-handedly, glancing at Meg. "I don't actually take that many cases anymore."

"It _is_ a shame," remarked Raoul. "I've read a lot about your talent."

"I'm flattered," he said with the ghost of a smile. "You're into architecture, right?" Raoul nodded. "I thought I read your name in the papers a few years ago. It had something to do with Pierre Chouteau and his booming success as the CEO of a biotechnology giant"

He shook his head. "That'll be Renaud Chouteau," he said easily. "My brother. I ... well, I'm something of the black sheep, so it's my brother who gets into the family limelight." He shrugged.

Dinner was nice and quiet, with Meg funnily alone on love seat, Raoul in rounded cane, cushioned chair, and Ryu was on the sofa.

By the end of the evening, as Ryu bid Meg a good night, standing outside for a moment longer on the doorstep, knowing that inside Raoul was kissing her as he, too took his farewell, Ryu knew this symbolised the end.

And even then, even so, he couldn't stop it. He was not jealous. He was defeated.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I guess this one wasn't as good as the last chapter, so I'm kind of learning to figure _why_ I just love writing one-shots so much. But, I'm still going to write this one to the end, by hook or by crook. (Or maybe by gook, too.) 

And if anyone objects that they're Japanese and shouldn't have heard of some ancient Hollywood movie, (or any such supremely biased thing, for that matter,) let's just remember Ryu grew up in New York, and I sent Meg to America in the last chapter, even if I'm not American.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: There's a huge big thank you to **EvoAngel **for the review. I'm glad you think it's sweet, since no matter what I'm projecting here, this is emphatically _not_ an angst fic. (You can lower those sceptical eyebrows now, thankyouverymuch.)

**Yunnie Yuae**, I'm glad you like it, and I'm really sorry that you don't like Raoul. I know all he's done is make Ryu look like bleached ham (but it's coming from Ryu's perspective, so he exaggerates.) I _am_ putting a lot into his character development, since I didn't really expect anyone to like the stranger butting into Ryu and Meg's relationship, (as inspired by Laboni, without whom this story would have remained a shoddy one-shot) but I really hope he won't stop you from reading the rest of the fic, or as far as I get with it. _Muchos_ _gracias_ for reading thus far, too.

I don't quite agree with **Crystal Haze**, when you say Meg would prefer Bloom to Hawn. (I don't know what she feels about super-old movies, but the three-quarters of _Death Becomes Her_ I saw once was excellent.) You've to keep in mind this is a post-series fic, so Meg and Ryu are _older_, and particularly, I can't picture a grown woman drooling over Orlando Bloom. (Okay, there's this sister of mine who still hasn't given up on Roger Moore, but that's just plain weird.)

This chapter is a little longer too make up for the horrible _de jour_ update schedule I have; but largely, to tell you the truth, the plot bunnies wouldn't stop hopping until I had to smash them over the head with a sledgehammer. (I never realised fully before, how much I actually like this story!)

* * *

**Chapter Three**

When Ryu awoke the next day, his head was throbbing with the aftertaste of Meg's wine, and despite the cottony sensation in his throat, warning him an overdose of liquor was going to make him sick worse than what he'd been the time he'd accidentally swallowed too much of salt— it hit him.

He fell back on the bed with a hard _thump_, the groan escaping him, wrought with horror.

Suddenly, the old engagement ring around his finger felt sizes too tight. He'd forgotten to take it off yesterday evening when he visited her.

Had she seen it? Did she recognise it? Or ... His stomach twisted. Oh, damn. Did she think that _he was engaged to someone else_?

In a blur of human motion, Ryu shot up from the bed, wrenching and twisting at it, trying to pry the ring off his finger. With a soft little tinkle, it flew through the air and landed on the floor a few yards away. Chest heaving, finger red and sore, he stared it, his eyes wiped blank.

The minutes ticked by.

Slowly, mechanically, he got up, stood swaying on his feet and spinning head, and carefully made his way out to the bathroom. He couldn't shove it back down his throat anymore. When taken too much in one evening, wine can be frighteningly emetic.

* * *

Sullenly, he sat at the wooden table, stirring his spoon in the coffee, staring out the window. Sunlight was flooding in through the wide kitchen window, and he could clearly see the house across the mostly-empty street.

It was Sunday. That would mean Kohana was still out for a run, circling the park. He allowed a small smile to tug his mouth at the thought of the ponytailed girl who lived in that house across the street. Being neighbourly? Kohana was a poster-girl for it.

She'd even offered to show him around the neighbourhood when he'd moved here.

The thought sent a pang of pain through his heart. His grandfather was missing. PLUTO had fallen to crumbled dust. Anubis was dead. Miss Yurie had kissed him on both cheeks, stepped back to smile at him, and he never saw her again.

Even if he still stayed in the same house now. Even if each year, there'd be something from her on Christmas morning. Ryu wondered now if he missed her. Her farewell had certainly left him with a tear in his heart.

Someone rapped on the door. Still in a dark terrycloth robe over pyjama trousers, he made his way through the drawing room, scattered with magazines, newspapers and cushions, to answer.

It was nine in the morning, and he was still having breakfast. Hopefully, it was the postman or some delivery guy. The two options for an impromptu morning visitor that he wouldn't want to consider were someone he knew, or worse, a salesman.

Holding his breath and pushing his bangs out of his eyes, he cautiously pulled the door open.

It was Kazuma Narusawa. 

"Mornin'," he greeted, raising a hand as Ryu's wary eyes peered around the edge of the door. Kazuma had grown to level height with him by now, his voice losing the old nasal pitch.

"Err, hi," returned Ryu. "Err, don't you have some place to be right now?"

"School's out. It's Sunday. Can I come in?"

"Aren't the alarm bells ringing that it isn't the best of times?"

"No," Kazuma deadpanned. "Besides, I've already seen that you're half-dressed—your curtains are open." Ryu glanced at the offending window, and cursed. "Hey, I really need a word with you right now. Open up."

Reluctantly, he held the door open wider, and Kazuma ducked in through the narrow gap.

"So, why're you here?"

Ryu followed Kazuma into the kitchen, going to the coffee-maker to make some more. Kazuma pulled a chair out from around the small kitchen table and sat down, surveying the surroundings.

"Breakfast?"

"Nearly done with it."

"No, I meant aren't you going to offer me some?"

"If you like poached eggs, they're all I've got right now." He knew Kazuma wasn't trying to be imposing; it was just that Ryu didn't feel at ease yet around the boy. Not after that disastrous blind date, and being slammed into Kate again. Subconsciously, he'd blamed Kazuma for it because he had no one else. And he hadn't been doing it absolutely unwittingly either.

It was what sent the guilt twanging.

"You said you wanted to wanted a word," Ryu reminded him again.

Kazuma threw him a dirty look. "Jeez, is this how you treat all of your guests?" Then the look disappeared. "Didn't mean to say that," he muttered, and his shoulders slumped. He didn't really know himself why he'd come. Even back at DDS it'd been like this.

Kyu had been Ryu's best friend. Meg had been shy, and a bit coy as the years grew before they started going out. Kinta had always made Ryu feel involved, a part of the group. (All right, he'd gone overboard at the hot springs, but that was just once.) Kazuma had never really found out where he belonged around Ryu.

Because at first he'd been jealous. He was supposed to be the code-cracker, the computer wizard below his teens, the prodigy. But then Ryu had come, with brilliance, eyes, brains and skill that surpassed Kazuma's and never, ever flaunted it. He'd asked Kazuma for help even; flattering as it'd been at first, slowly Ryu had come to be regarded as a friend.

In the same relatively distant way as Meg, whose overtures of friendship never touched him quite right.

And now there were Ryu and Meg going out together. Breaking up. Going their separate ways. Kazuma didn't know anymore where he stood.

It wasn't new. Friends moved away, it happened. Always. And you made new ones. He didn't know why he was so reluctant to move away from Meg and Ryu who'd found love in each other. Who'd broken away partly, too. Made new friends, stayed with the old ones.

"Kazuma."

Ryu's voice snapped him. His head jerked up, and reaching aside, Ryu set down a steaming mug of milk coffee in front of him. "Eggs might take a while."

Kazuma shook his head. "No. 'S alright."

Ryu shrugged, but continued to look intently at him.

He took a sip of the coffee, and blurted out, "I came here to apologize."

"There's no need."

"No, there is. I haven't seen you in ages. Probably not since Kinta told us about his promotion and stuff. That was the last time we properly got together."

He nodded with a half-shrug. That'd been the time Kazuma had accused him of not moving on with his life, standing where he was, rock-still as the shadows and beings swept past, standing with the tendrils coiled around his ankles in a world of ghosts, built out of glaze and mist.

"I'm really sorry about what I've said about you. I met Meg again, and I remembered how much you liked her. When she left, well ... well, I realize now how much it hurt. I didn't understand it then, and I still don't, but I-I'm starting to. I want you to know that I'm sorry, and I want to take back every of it that I said."

Ryu closed his eyes, pressing his hands flat on the kitchen counter he was leaning back against. "I told you, Kazuma, it's all right. I hardly remember any of it anymore, so we're even. Alright?"

Mutely, the boy nodded.

"So," said Ryu in an attempt to be cheerful. "Does any of this mean you have a girlfriend now?"

Kazuma went red. He started to stutter.

Ryu laughed. "So? What's so embarrassing? I never said that you were like Kinta ... Or— are you?"

"Of course I'm not!" he yelled indignantly. "I happen to like Aiko very much, thank you!"

"Oh, so her name's Aiko, is it?"

He went redder, until he looked like a cartoon. "Yes," he muttered through his teeth.

"So, what's she like? She probably taller than you."

"Now, listen here! I have grown by quite a good many inches, thank you very much! So I will appreciate you—"

"You grew by a good many _inches_?" Ryu repeated, the uncharacteristic wickedness glinting in his eyes. "Let me see here ... couple of years back you were just barely four feet, so that makes you now..."

By the time Kazuma left, Ryu stood in the doorway, a hand raised in farewell even after. Kohana, walking back home after a jog through the town, waved back at him, thinking the gesture was for her. Smiling thinly at her, he quietly withdrew.

Kazuma's farewell and his apology resounded within the walls. It played over and over like a mocking echo. _What was the point_? he wondered dully. Meg had found that Raoul fellow, she was happy. Close the chapter.

This was pointless.

* * *

It had been hard last night to get Raoul to leave. She loved him, she loved being around him, but ... Meg could never explain it. Leaving Raoul was always hard.

He didn't want to leave her. She didn't want to let him. And yet, the crushing memory reminded her softly each time how closeness had killed her and Ryu.

_This is different_, she'd tried to reason back against herself. Raoul was very different from Ryu, because he was open everywhere Ryu was shy, Raoul was open on his own, affectionate and loving, when Ryu had to be opened, passionate and ardent when he loved, aloof when he didn't.

She sat on the side of the bed, her legs kicking the air. Raoul was never afraid to show her that he loved her, but he was flitting touches and lingering kisses, more in heart than on her lips. She loved him for it, the boldness and shyness in a swirling cocktail, but it always made it harder for her.

She never wanted him to leave. He didn't want to either. If they broke apart then, when they met again, they would have to face the renewed barrier of his hesitancy all over again.

There was a message on the answering machine when she went downstairs, the house empty. It was from her sister, and the recorded voice flooded the drawing room like a deluge.

"Meg, it's your favourite sis in the world. We're not coming home tonight, or if we do, it might be very late. Sorry! But don't wait up, okay? Tomorrow morning might see you asleep on the couch."

Deleting it, Megumi rolled her eyes. It wasn't hard to imagine why her sister wasn't coming home; Shinahara and she probably checked into a hotel room for the night.

The next message was from her brother-in-law himself.

"Hi, Meg, it's me. Your sister wanted me to tell you she's not stopping by the house today; she's driving herself straight to work. I think I might drop past home to pick up a few things, alright?"

That message was around six-thirty. It was nine-thirty now. He'd probably come and gone, and she hadn't heard. Meg felt a little stab. It was still jolly decent of him to let her stay with them until she found a place of her own with a sustaining job.

As she fixed herself a bowl of Cornflakes, milk and fruit, she thought of Ryu who'd given up a brief career of private investigation. He'd stopped working sometime during when they'd been involved. It had started when he had to take leave of his work to settle family affairs; and then his grandfather died and he was left with his inheritance.

Only sometimes did Ryu take cases anymore. She'd veered towards horticulture, but there had been times when she'd gone with him to investigate crimes. Coming home late to their little flat, midnight drives on the back of the motorcycle she never knew that he would drive.

The doorbell sounded, and she answered.

Outside, there stood Mrs. Aikawa, twenty-seven, and looking like seventeen like she always did: young and radiant. Her face fell slightly at the sight of Meg.

"Your sister isn't here?" she blurted, before quickly apologising.

"It's okay," said Meg quickly. "I can help."

Mrs. Aikawa squeezed a grateful smile. A working mother with a kid in a Montessori and two twins more, it was hard for her. Her husband helped out as much as he could, and Meg knew her sister did too.

"I was wondering if you could walk Tony; your sister likes dogs, so I thought it'd be ideal to ask her. It's alright, Megumi, you don't have to."

She shook her head. "I insist."

Ten minutes later, Meg was walking down the pavement, a handsome, energetic terrier leading her as they went, tugging so hard sometimes that she stumbled over her shoelaces.

Since Mrs. Aikawa generally took him to the park, that's where she went, as well. It was around ten in the morning, and the morning joggers were gone by now. Sunday. The streets were littered with people on their feet.

There wasn't much to do. Tony, the big, jolly terrier, knew his territory. He yanked at her through the leash, pulling it out of her grasp. Free spirit, she thought wryly, letting go.

Thankfully, he didn't wander. Not much.

Over the park gates, she could see the confectionary across the street. It was just opening, and someone patiently waiting for them. He was light-haired, and it seemed darker where the sun fell on it. Unconsciously, Meg touched the nape of her neck, her own hair cut short.

The glass doors opened, and the man went inside the confectionary. Tony returned to the bench, nuzzling at the hand resting on Meg's knee. She smiled wryly. He wanted the back of his ears scratched.

She sat back on the bench after he had wandered off again, closing her eyes to the sunlight pouring from the sky, not looking at the white circles under her eyelids either. A touch of the hand leaning on her shoulder, made her eyes fly open. She spun around, and the gentleman standing behind her caught her right in the depth of his eyes.

Her eyes widened.

It was Ryu. And the way he was standing, his body slanted, his chin tilted towards her, he looked, for an eternity flashing past Megumi's mind, as if he was going to kiss her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I made a MASSIVE mistake in the last chapter. I can't believe I was in such a hurry to post it, that I didn't see beyond correcting typos and grammar technicalities. I nearly, stupidly changed the _entire_ course of the story with one _single_ word— amazing ain't I?

**His grandfather was missing. PLUTO had fallen to crumbled dust. Anubis was dead. Miss Yurie had kissed him on both cheeks, stepped back to smile at him, and he never saw her again.**

That's what I _should_ have written. Instead, I wrote that, "**His grandfather was dead**." Horrible mistake, and even if you're probably rolling your eyes at it, it seriously changes the whole course of the story.

Then again, I welcome everyone who just read that to imagine just _how_ the old Mr. Amakusa can influence this fic. Tell me what you envision, 'kay?

Never had I said, **Yunnie** **Yuae**, that Raoul was great. My OCs are never _great_, nor are they Marty Stuarts. I just put more characterisation effort. But about where the plot is going to go from here, I have just one thing to say: **Have more faith in me, will you?** :grins: There is _no_ way I'm going to be accredited with cheesy plot twists. About what you said about them kissing, well, I can't promise however that they won't get together again. Raoul is important, but dispensable.

**eurika**, thank you very much and very sincerely for the compliment.

**Crystal Haze**, thanks for reviewing, and I might just have to take my chances with the Looney Toons. I assure you there's going to be a happy ending (as happy as our angst-driven lil' characters can be) in the sense that almost every little bit of antagonism will definitely be done away with, but RyuxMeg ... hmm, _therein lies the question of gold or painted brass_...

**lostariel**, I really appreciated your review. I didn't mean to leave it as a cliff-hanger's note, but I had absolutely no idea how to end Chapter Four, so that was the only reason this took so long. In-character? Wow, thanks so much. (Wait until you see Kyu; I think he's a little off _that_ mark!) And Ryu ... Oh, but he's not given up _at all_... :smirks with distinct evil:

* * *

**Chapter Four**

He looked, for an eternity flashing past Megumi's mind, as if he was going to kiss her.

He smiled, and lifted his hand. "You looked so peaceful," he said softly. "I didn't mean to intrude."

She swallowed, and smiled weakly. "Not at all." Scooting over on the bench, she added, "Sit?"

Ryu came around the other end of the bench, and took his seat. He asked what she was doing here, and she told him honestly. He looked at her sideways, and throwing back his head, he laughed.

"Hey, it's not _that_ funny," she protested. "Don't tell me you've never walked your neighbour's dog at least once in your life."

Mock hurt crossed his expression. "Can't I laugh, Megumi, without having someone take offence?"

She blushed, and muttered something to the effect of an apology, but he only laughed again, and she cocked her head sideways to look at him, her eyes raising that puzzled half-question: he'd changed so much, and now he was like how he had been.

"Ryu, what are you doing here?"

His eyebrows rose. "Am I not supposed to be here?" Coldness was creeping into his voice, as if he seemed to recognise that neither of them had.

"I just asked."

"I had nothing to do."

"Oh. I came only to walk Mrs. Aikawa's dog."

"He's trying to get out, I think; see, he's sniffing at the gate."

Meg jerked, quickly standing up. It was true: Tony was curiously prowling the park gates, and she ran towards him, but he only seemed to be interested in the street beyond. Stealing behind her, hands sliding into his pockets, Ryu remarked dryly,

"The park is hardly the only place in the world for a dog, you know."

"Where, then," she said, allowing the ghost of a teasing smile, "do you propose to go?"

He coloured immediately. "Th-th-that's not—!"

Smiling beatifically, she pushed open the gate, and slipped out, Tony bounding at her heels. There was a low-pitched wailing creak, and the gate swung back on its hinges, slamming closed before Ryu. Lifting a hand in farewell, Meg started down the pavement, and before she could turn the corner, the sound of his laughter exploded behind her.

* * *

A little present was waiting for him as soon he got home.

It was two-forty-five. A sideways glance at the watch, and Ryu winced. He'd missed a dental appointment. Because he'd been with Megumi. The devil's tattoo started to drum itself in his head.

The key turned the lock with a small click, the door swung open at touch, and the sharp ring of the phone erupted from the drawing room in the same moment— and abruptly, the sound was cut off. A male voice sounded on the answering machine.

It was his.

"_You_'_ve found Ryu Amakusa_'_s phone_, _but he_'_s not at home right now_. _Just leave a message with your phone number and the reason why you called so that he can call you back after the bee—_"

His own voice was interrupted as he quickly uttered a breathless hello into the receiver.

"Ryu, hi! ... I'm glad I found you,"

And his spirits rose up the steep anticline at the voice. "I just arrived. Where's the murder?"

"Uh, right." Kyu didn't laugh. He never found those sorts of jokes funny. "See, Kazuma's celebrating tonight, and he wants us to come—"

"Celebrating what?"

"His graduation. It's coming up in a week, and he's leaving in a blaze of academic glory. He wants us to come. Tonight at seven. His house. Meg's going to come, too. Shall I pick you up, or do you know the way? Oh, and I'm not letting you back out of this one, in case you were thinking."

Ryu laughed into the receiver. Megumi was different now. He wondered if Kyu knew by how much.

* * *

Fists shoved deep into his pockets. Feet tapping the devil's tattoo. Ears listening as the metallic clicks of high heels get closer. His head lifted.

"Megumi,"

Startled, she spun around. Ryu was standing near a glass cabinet that displayed Kazuma's trophies shamelessly, and fingers holding the wineglass with a better grip, she moved towards him.

"Oh, hi. I saw you as I came in, but then I lost you."

He smiled. "The same thing." He tipped his head, venturing a look at the wineglass. It was filled halfway to the brim with diluted whiskey. An eyebrow arched.

"No, Kazuma's just hired a barman. Isn't this place absolutely _huge_?"

He gave a non-committal gesture. The Narusawa heir lived in a mansion, well-decorated and extremely rich. He'd seen the likes of such wealth before; wealth that had not been acquired so honestly, of course— the wealth that furnished his grandfather's house.

But that was different. It always would be.

"Interesting evening, huh?"

Megumi started. The whiskey splashed, a fleck landing imperceptibly against Ryu's clean, white shirt. He looked dryly at her, but her back was turned, brightly greeting the newcomer: Kyu Renjou. His eyes only saw her French-styled hair, the nape of her neck, and the tiny gold clasp of her necklace, holding itself above her collar.

Warmth flooded his cheeks. That necklace had been his gift.

"Hey, Ryu."

"Hello, Kyu. Enjoying yourself?"

"I guess," He beamed. He too had grown taller, stockier in the shoulders, a kind of ruggedness that accentuated the best features of his face. "I know Kinta sure the hell is."

They glanced over his shoulder, and it was easy to spot Kinta, surrounded by the ladies. What he did not have so many years ago, he now had in plenty. It was easy for Ryu to have his envy of the new Police Commissioner's good looks.

"Has anyone seen Kazuma here?"

Ryu shrugged. "Don't ask me; I've only arrived."

Meg looked apologetic. "Ditto. I've been too impressed by the bar."

Kyu cocked his head at them, observing succintly, "Aren't you two acting a little odd?" Meg and Ryu exchanged amused glanced. "Anyway. I'm going for a walk outside. Does anybody care to join me?"

"No thanks," said Ryu quickly. He offered a smile.

"I wouldn't mind," said Meg, instead. "It was a little chilly when I came; hold on a second." She made him wait, as she wove through the crowd, catching someone whose face was turned away, by the sleeve and found directions to the wrap closet.

She returned five minutes later, her coat draped over her arm.

Kyu had been engrossed in conversation, but he turned around and smiled at her approach. He paid a small compliment, and Ryu took a sip of the wine he'd been offered in the interlude, watching Kyu lead Megumi out, their hands touching carelessly, but with not-so-evanescent familiarity.

* * *

Two people, escaped, stood in the gravel path outside the enclosed garden at the back of the Narusawa house. It was cold, very cold, and the woman announced so with some degree of triumph. They were standing close enough just not to feel the caressing heat of each other's breath.

Kyu, who was wearing a collared sweater, didn't feel anything except a light nip on his hands, and so he was constantly rubbing them to usher the feeling back into them. It was a very odd picture that they painted. Looking at it from above, one would say it was beautiful.

"Here. Hold this."

Meg handed him the unfinished whiskey, and unfolding the coat, battled to slide it on. It was big by a size, and Kyu ended up trying to help her into it, but only got batted away. She never thought he'd make a good gentleman anyway; the sheepish, embarrassed look in his eyes made her smile.

Her attention briefly broke as Kyu remarked about the loveliness of the garden flowers, a relatively shallow remark, and Meg couldn't hold in her reaction.

"How's everything going?"

The question startled him, and his amber eyes opened wide. It was a funny thing to ask anyone, but then she said,

"I've only been home for a little over a week. _Everyone_'_s_ changed; Kinta has that promotion he always wanted; and now, Raoul has come. I guess ... I guess I can trust you to give me an objective look of things."

Kyu smiled, sharply biting back the pain of the sting. "Lucky me, eh? There's not much to tell you."

"I want to hear it anyway. You have a refreshing outlook on things,"

"Aw, thanks, Megumi."

"Don't be sarcastic, Kyu."

* * *

She found Ryu in the expansive east-side balcony, leaning over his folded arms on the railing.

"Ryu?" she said softly, stepping forward a little as he slowly turned his head back to look at her. "Um, beautiful evening, isn't it?"

He turned around fully so that he could look at her, leaning back lightly over the rail. "Yeah ... yeah, it is ... Uh, where's Kyu?"

"I ... eh ... I lost him somewhere too."

"In the garden?" Even as he said it, he realized what a painfully bad conversationalist he was being. As if in apology, he cast her a very sheepish look, that only left her as very bemused.

Deep inside, she hardly understood what he was feeling. She could think how _had_ they had become _this_ awkward?

* * *

Meg didn't wake up until late on Monday. She didn't have a job anymore, and she rolled around heavily like a walrus, getting tangled in the bedsheets, trying to make herself comfortable. But after five minutes' worth of thrashing, she flung out her arms, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

No good. She was pitilessly awake.

Meg didn't like Monday mornings. Her sister worked from home on Mondays and Tuesdays, and usually she was on and off the phone with her husband, on and off the phone with old boyfriends, on and off with Meg about Raoul.

For Meg, her sister looked at life as an opportunity to have an unending line of beaux. Very existence was her unending love life.

And then she heard it. Voices. Downstairs. An indistinct male and a light-voiced woman.

She groaned. Oh, that was why she'd woken up at ... The clock told her it was ten-thirty. She stared uncomprehendingly, before rolling off the bed, and stumbling into the bath to find toothpaste.

Living like a slob on Mondays simply seemed to ping off her.

By the time she got into the shower, she felt considerably more alive, more curious as to who exactly was downstairs in the house. Shinahara had left a long time ago because of his more orderly work schedule, and she wondered, blow-drying her hair before the mirror, if it were Raoul.

The thought of seeing him again made her smile.

The part of her that had seen him the day before last, and the part of her that had danced with him on the beach under the sky and stars in Haiti seemed very far away now. And like her sister had remarked then with that characteristically amused dryness that made her remembered,

"_I just never thought that he_'_d follow you all the way, that_'_s all_."

She was very pleasantly surprised when she descended into the drawing room in a pleated skirt that made her look younger and littler.

"Morning, Meg; aren't you early?" said her sister, turning around in the chair, raising her cup of tea like a toast. The other one was cupped by two long, slim hands, and the holder, sitting slouched on the couch looked up, a rare smile finding him.

"Good morning, Megumi," he said warmly, "you're looking nice."

Meg blushed, and squeaked a hello. "Is there any breakfast left for me?" Her eyes stayed only on her visitor.

"Sorry," said Mrs. Shinahara adroitly and most insincerely. "But Ryu can take you for a coffee. I'm sure he's been bored out of talking to me." She flashed him a smile.

"I wouldn't mind," he said quickly. "And they've opened a new bistro nearby; it serves good mocha. Would you like to go?"

Meg looked at him, and his clear grey eyes calmly gazed back, and the words sounded distant in her own ears as she said, "I'd like it very much, Ryu."

* * *

The little café was packed like newly-opened establishments always are and will be, and they sat near the large frosted-glass window at the back, that had the name chiselled carefully into it.

Meg swung her legs under the plastic table, wincing sheepishly when she felt it hit Ryu's shin. "Oops, sorry!"

His eyes were wide in shock, like she'd flabbergasted him, and he considered bending down to make a swift check that she hadn't cracked the tibia. And then he discarded it, smiled reassuringly at her, and took a hasty sip of coffee, if only to want the hot beverage scald his senses to ignore the pain shooting up his legs.

"Oh, it must've hurt"— _Clever girl_, he thought, squeezing out that thought painfully —"I didn't mean to, honest—"

But he waved it off with the free hand, the other one desperately engaged in swilling coffee down his throat.

"Do you still work?" she asked a little later. The coffee had been depreciated to little drops at the bottom of the mug, and she wanted to know.

"Once or twice. Kinta calls me when he thinks I might like to lend a hand, or folks just call me themselves ... I don't need to work, but you know that..."

She nodded. "Oh."

She'd nearly forgotten that Pandora's box that Ryu still carried with him, and as little as a year ago, she wouldn't have gotten him to answer that question, or herself not to kiss him, desperately drawing him away from the cold feeling that invaded his hands when he thought of PLUTO.

The pre-mortem will by which his grandfather left him a fragment of his blood-stained wealth.

"You?"

"I freeload off my sister's husband."

Ryu laughed, and she noticed with an indescribable tingle how he still cocked his head when he did that, his eyes laughing too, a faded image of the boy she'd once fallen in love with.

Conversation seemed to flow from there. Ryu spoke more, he laughed, he gesticulated, he cracked typically wry jokes, and Meg asked questions back, laughed with him, and smiled to see ... everything could be the same...

Nothing had changed, then, and bitterness could be washed aside, and hurt would fade until there would only be Ryu Amakusa and Megumi Minami left. He'd loved her once, she loved him for that now.

"It's twelve," remarked Ryu with considerable surprise. Meg leaned over across the table to look at his watch, and he was right. They'd been here for over an hour... "And I never realized!" He shook his head ruefully, and said, his voice a note softer, "You make lovely company, Megumi. You always did."

She blushed again, and he averted his gaze from her, and she immediately wanted to take back time. Everything was spun from silk; the slightest tug and it would tear. Briefly, she wondered if she really wanted to live with that, and when she remembered the careless days of gaiety, deep, powerful undercurrents of submerging emotion, she realized it wouldn't matter.

Ryu had ambled over to the counter to pay the bill of fare, and Meg was still sitting at the plastic table in swirling pensiveness. She looked up when he returned, and he was smiling at her, taller than what memory served.

"Could I hold the pleasure of taking you to lunch, Miss Minami?"

She started. "Oh..." She looked up at him, and their eyes met and held, and she said softly, "I'm sorry, I can't ... Raoul invited me to eat out with him, his treat."

He nodded, his lips pressing tightly, before he said, "I had a delightful morning with you, though. And a weekend I enjoyed."

She stood up as well, and grasping his hand, shook it. "Thanks Ryu; I did too."

Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek, and moved past towards the door. He wheeled around to watch her leave, and before she yanked it open and slipped out the door, she turned around, and waved slowly.

"Goodbye," she mouthed to him.


End file.
